


Crush

by SilviaKundera



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-12
Updated: 2009-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 19:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilviaKundera/pseuds/SilviaKundera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a comment fic response to the the ST Kink Meme prompt: <i>"This time I want Chekov to be freaking out about the age difference".</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush

Her name-- he could not recall.

It was short, he was certain of _this_ , yes. The type that slid beneath the teeth. Like the sharp taps of her heels. Her impossibly short, stiff skirts twitching perpetually upward.

 _"Daddy's Girl"_ , the Orions called her (faces first frustrated with the imperfect translation) -- in flippant cafeteria musings, between labs, as she lingered at the desks of her professors.

Pavel thinks of her, unexpectedly, when the Doctor leans over his shoulder (her cherry red eyes, wide mouth, hair spilling down as she tucked her face in the Academy hallways), and steadies himself, fingers hunched, knuckles whitening over the table edge as the salt is fetched and breath can return to his lungs.

He wonders if their world has a word for this, what they would call him.

It is horrible and hot at the back of his neck, and he cannot follow the lively cadence of Sulu's storytelling, the Captain's squack. The Doctor smiled at him yesterday. He had been helping Miss Chapel to her quarters, had tripped, so humiliating, but he had answered the Doctor's biting wit and the Doctor had smiled so sly, like a fox. And now he sits, slumped careless in his chair, and his arm presses against Pavel's when he stabs his points home with the closest fork.

Pavel, he knows: the Doctor has a name, three names (nickname and first and last), and yet slipped under the sheets, even, he cannot voice it to himself. He pushes over, face pressed warm against the pillow, mouth making it damp as he rolls his hips and thinks of the Doctor leaning, yes, again and against his back, the Doctor's hands gripping his arms, his shoulders, how it would be, the Doctor's knees parting his thighs, and he does not worry then, only _wants_.

But after, there is something in his chest that tightens, that thinks of her, her earnest chin. Her reckless men.

He does not, he cannot yet know what he is looking for. But he wonders if she found it.


End file.
